


Normalcy

by Anna_Blossom



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Fluff, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-29 12:51:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7685329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Blossom/pseuds/Anna_Blossom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles all taking place in the same universe as my 'We're All Civilians Now' series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jack Morrison/Gabriel Reyes - Motorbike

**Author's Note:**

> For those reading this on a computer, you can hover your mouse over text in another language to see the translation immediately. To see how it's done, click [here](https://danceswithgary.dreamwidth.org/248536.html).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sarcastic ass.”
> 
> “Please.” Gabriel rolls his eyes, still smirking. “You love my ass.”
> 
> “You know, sometimes I wonder why I agreed to date you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided that since this is an au (which basically implied I could do what I want :P), Gabe and Jack are gonna be in their mid-40's. Jack doesn't have his scars ~~at least not yet~~ and his hair ain't white and Gabe still looks like himself ~~at least for now~~.

Gabriel folds his arms in front of him as he leans against his motorbike, waiting for his boyfriend to arrive. He glances at the shop window in front of him, subtly looking over his outfit, and when he catches himself doing so, he shakes his head. Even after three years of knowing Jack Morrison and a month of being in a serious relationship with him, he _still_ gets nervous whenever he and the blond go out for a fancy date. If Jack knew, he’d never live it down.

He huffs out a soft laugh as he recalls their first date as a couple. Jack turned so _red_ when Gabriel held his hand as they walked around town, no real destination in mind. He remembers running into Amélie’s girlfriend, Lena, who Jack actually knew. “Used to work together before I got this pizza gig,” she explained cheerfully. She offered to snap them a picture, and Jack had agreed before Gabriel could say anything. It wasn’t the best picture—slightly blurred and out of focus—but Jack treasured it all the same, the photo framed and placed on his desk at home. The only reason Gabriel wasn’t teasing him for that was because he had saved the same photo as his phone’s wallpaper, discretely asking Lena to send it to him and swearing her to secrecy. That was another thing Jack would never let him live down if he knew.

Speaking of Jack, Gabriel glances up as he hears the sound of rapid footsteps approaching. Jack grins at him, slowing to a jog.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jack says with an apologetic smile. “I lost track of time talking with Angie.”

Gabriel waves his apology off. “It’s fine. Now let’s go before we miss our reservation.” He gets on his bike tossing Jack a helmet, then putting on his own. He shoots Jack a questioning look when he chuckles. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jack says, shaking his head. “Just thinking about the time you got this helmet made especially for me.” Gabriel glances at the helmet in Jack’s hands. It wasn’t that fancy with its blue color scheme with white and black accents, the face shield is tinted red, and a huge red ‘76’ on the left. It was a birthday gift. “I don’t even own a motorcycle.”

Gabriel smirks. “Not really a huge surprise, since you can’t drive for shit,” he teases, and Jack pouts playfully.

“At least I don’t drive like I’m starring in a ‘Fast and Furious’ movie,” he retorts, before an amused smile finds its way on his face. “Now that I think about it though, it should’ve been obvious that you had a crush on me,” he muses.

“What, you mean ordering expensive custom helmets for each other isn’t something friends do?” Gabriel asks sarcastically, and smirks when Jack laughs and shoves his shoulder. He’ll never get tired of that laugh.

“Sarcastic ass.”

“Please.” Gabriel rolls his eyes, still smirking. “You love my ass.”

“You know, sometimes I wonder why I agreed to date you.”

“ _Porque me amas_ ,” Gabriel drawls out, enjoying the slight flush on the other’s cheeks, which Jack immediately tries to hide by wearing his helmet.

“You’re lucky I do.” Jack huffs before walking over and making himself comfortable behind Gabriel, arms wrapping around his boyfriend’s front. “Nothing else would make me forgive your reckless driving.”

An idea enters Gabriel’s mind, and he grins mischievously. “So,” he revs his motorcycle, “‘Fast and Furious’, huh?” Gabriel drawls, and he could feel Jack tighten his grip cautiously.

“Gabe,” he says in a ‘don’t you dare’ sort of voice.

Gabriel revs up his motorcycle once more, and that’s all the warning Jack gets before they’re suddenly tearing through the street just below the speed limit.

“Gabe!”

A laugh is all Jack gets in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Porque me amas - Because you love me


	2. Jamison Fawkes/Mako Rutledge - First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look here, spoiled brat,” he says, and Jamison blinks at being called ‘brat’ by someone other than his father. “I don’t like you either. I’m in this for the paycheck. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to bend over and do whatever you want.” He leans in closer. “Capiche?” Jamison feels his heart race.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for rich boy Junkrat?! Because that's what you're getting!

“Who’s he?” Jamison asks, eyeing the huge man standing beside his father, who’s sitting behind his desk as usual. And by huge, he means _huge_. Jamison may stand at six feet six, but he was a beanpole, all pointy elbows and gangly limbs. But this guy is even taller than him, a huge belly underneath a cheap suit (Jamison _knows_ it’s cheap; you don’t spend your entire life being pampered without knowing a couple of things about price tags and quality). The man is fat, that’s for sure, but Jamison is willing to bet that there is a layer of tough muscle underneath all that.

“Son, this is Mako Rutledge, your new bodyguard,” his father introduces, and the name ticks something in Jamison’s brain. It sounds so familiar. “Rutledge, this is my son, Jamison Fawkes.”

_Rutledge, Rutledge, Rutledge…_ And then it clicks. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a tick!” Jamison says, waving his hands in front of him. His father raises an eyebrow, but he waves a hand, silently telling him to ‘go on’. “Mako Rutledge? Ain’t he that wanted criminal ‘Roadhog’? You want _him_ to be my bodyguard?!” Jamison gestures at said criminal, who merely grunts. “And didn’t I tell ya that I don’t want a fuckin’ bodyguard?!”

“This is not about what you want, Jamison,” his father, just as lanky as Jamison yet with all the dignity and poise he lacks, says sternly. “It’s about what you _need_. Ever since you were young, people have been after your head because you are my sole successor.” Jamison scowls, not saying anything, and his father continues speaking. “There has been a grand total of _fifty_ kidnapping attempts. _Three_ times you’ve nearly lost your life,” his father stresses, casting a brief glance at his son’s left side. Jamison’s scowl turns into a grimace, and he balls his right hand into a fist. “You will keep Rutledge as a bodyguard, and that is _final_ ,” his father finishes, tone leaving no room for discussion.

Jamison opens his mouth to argue, but a sharp glare from his father stops him. Instead, he purses his lips, narrowing his eyes at his new bodyguard, who is just standing there silently. He growls.

“Fine!” he barks out, and his father nods, evidently pleased.

“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do,” and with that, he dismisses his son. The blond exits the room, his bodyguard follows after him.

As soon as they enter the elevator, Jamison whirls around, glowering at the taller man. “Look, mate,” he says, pressing a bony finger against the man’s chest. “I don’t loike you, and I’m not gonna pretend that I do, so if I tell you to bugger off, you do it. Capiche?”

Much to his surprise, the man, Rutledge, just growls, and Jamison lets out a startled yelp as his wrist is suddenly grabbed by a much bigger hand. “Look here, spoiled brat,” he says, and Jamison blinks at being called ‘brat’ by someone other than his father. “I don’t like you either. I’m in this for the paycheck. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to bend over and do whatever you want.” He leans in closer. “ _Capiche?_ ” Jamison feels his heart race.

“Alroight, alroight! You’ve made your point, Rutledge! You can let go of me now!” Jamison says quickly, raising his other hand in surrender.

Rutledge narrows his eyes. “Don’t call me Rutledge,” he says before releasing his grip on the younger man’s wrist.

They both remain silent for a few long moments, elevator music the only thing in the air. Jamison glances at the man beside him.

“So,” he starts, gulping when the man narrows his eyes at him again. “What do I call ya then? I mean, you don’t want me to call you Rutledge, so I’m guessin’ Mr. Rutledge isn’t okay as well. Want me to call you by your first name, Mako? Wow, that sounds weird, but if you want me to call you that, then I guess—”

“Roadhog,” Rutledge, no, _Roadhog_ cuts him off. “Call me that.”

“Roadhog,” Jamison repeats. “You want me to call you by your criminal name?”

Roadhog grunts, but he doesn’t answer Jamison’s question.

This guy’s more interesting than he initially thought. He wears cheap suits (not that Jamison actually cares, though), is a wanted criminal (how his father managed to hire him, Jamison is curious), and looks more than willing to kill Jamison himself if it wasn’t his job to protect him. It is… different. Jamison grins. He’s always liked different.

“Well then, Roadhog,” he reaches up and slings an arm around the taller man, and he doesn’t miss the brief expression of surprise crossing the other man’s face, as if he can’t believe that someone has the balls to touch him so casually without permission. “I think this is gonna be the start of a beautiful friendship.”


	3. Amélie Lacroix & Gabriel Reyes - Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She rolls her eyes. “I am not falling for that.”
> 
> “But I’m serious.”
> 
> “You ‘ardly ever are.”
> 
> “Ouch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some news. School just started once again, so I don't think I'll be able to write as much as I want to :/ So updates will take a very long time, especially concerning this series and Western Wisdom. Sorry guys.
> 
> So that said, have some Reaper and Widowmaker friendship.

_“Où est mon rouge à lèvres?!”_

Gabriel sips his coffee, watching with amusement as his normally calm, collected roommate paces around the living room in an almost frantic manner. “Try the bathroom, princess.”

Amazement crosses his face as Amélie doesn’t even give him a glare for the nickname, instead opting to rush towards the bathroom. Five minutes later, she comes back with noticeably redder, shinier lips. She walks towards her bag (Amélie threw him a disgusted sneer once for referring to it as such. “It is a _purse_ ,” she sniffed.) and started rummaging the contents.

“You know,” Gabriel drawls out, and she arches a delicately penciled eyebrow over her shoulder. “The last time I saw you this panicked was when you thought Talon was gonna fire your ass for serving Sombra the wrong drink.”

Amélie sniffs in disdain at the mention of Sombra. “ _Cette salope_ ordered that drink, regardless of what she claims afterward. I _never_ serve the wrong drink to anyone.”

“Sure,” Gabriel says with a shrug, before glancing at her with a smirk. “Except that one time you—”

_“Casse-toi, mon ami.”_

He lets out a loud laugh, nearly spilling his coffee. _“¡Calma, calma!”_ He grins at her, setting down his mug. “Just stop worrying already. She already agreed to go out on a date with you. Not like she’s gonna cancel last minute.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him. “I am _not_ worried.”

“Oh?” Gabriel raises a disbelieving eyebrow, giving her a once over. He nods towards a spot her lilac blouse. “You forgot to iron out a crease there.”

She rolls her eyes. “I am not falling for that.”

“But I’m serious.”

“You ‘ardly ever are.”

“Ouch.”

_TAP TAP TAP_

“Must be your girlfriend.” Gabriel makes a move to stand up from the couch, but an icy glare from Amélie stops him. He puts his hands up with a grin and sits back down. She resists the urge to roll her eyes again and instead starts walking towards the door. Discretely, she looks down at her blouse, silently cursing Gabriel because there _is_ a crease there. _Merde_.

“You gonna open the door or are you gonna wait for her to knock again?”

She ignores Gabriel. She yanks the door open, coming face to face with a fist almost hitting her face.

“Oh! Sorry, luv!” There in front of her stands Lena Oxton, decked out in a brown bomber jacket, a white tank top and shorts. She looks _wonderful_ and Amélie’s heart flutters at the sight. Lena smiles at Amélie sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head with her hand. “Nearly hit your pretty face, there.”

“Do not worry about it,” Amélie replies, and Lena nods in return. “Shall we go?”

Lena nods enthusiastically, stepping back and allowing her to exit her apartment. Minutes later, as they’re hailing a cab just outside the building, Amélie feels her phone vibrate. She opens it, narrowing her eyes when she sees it’s from Gabriel.

_‘have fun and remember to use protection’_

_‘I_ will _tell Jack that you have slept with nothing but his 76 jacket on not once, but thrice.’_

She waits for a reply, and when she gets none, she puts her phone away, satisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation (the French provided once again by the very ~~un~~ reliable google translate)
> 
> Où est mon rouge à lèvres? - Where's my lipstick?  
> Cette salope - That bitch  
> Casse-toi, mon ami - Fuck off, my friend  
> ¡Calma, calma! - Calm down  
> Merde - shit


End file.
